


Marks of Survival

by HamandChiise



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Positivity, Gen, Junkers being Junkers or w/e, Junkrat sleeps nude because of course he does, M/M, guys being dudes, stretch marks, what's better than this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamandChiise/pseuds/HamandChiise
Summary: "These marks were paler, sunken in like scars could sometimes be, but they wriggled along the body like lightning. He noted there were a few on the end that were pinker, looked fresher. But they weren’t anything to worry about. Marks of stretching, of showing a body’s aging. The explorer had a few, not in the same places of course, but his prize had them scattered all over. With a newfound interest, he took to pursuing and mapping them out. "
Junkrat can't sleep all that well, so he trails over the body that guards his own. Of course, the owner of said body doesn't like his sleep being interrupted.





	1. Marks of Perfection

A pair of mismatched hands stroked along the body laid out for them. The hands were laughably small and delicate compared to the form they were tracing. But said limbs were capable of immense creation paralleled with equal destruction. They were hands of a worker and artist, nails on one of them grubby with chemicals and dirt, joints of the mechanical hand gleaming in contrast. 

The owner kept the robotic digits in good working order so they wouldn’t fail on him in a tight jam, but had less qualms about his flesh one. Flesh grew back after all. Small burns and cuts littered the skin, callouses making fingertips hard. But those calloused fingertips continued in their journey with a delicate roving. 

Once upon a time, those same hands would have been removed and crushed for doing something similar, but now the owner of the flesh he was caressing had lightened up to him, so to speak. Plus, the big lug was asleep, which meant free reign, long as the owner of the hands kept quiet.

So the hands roved, ghosting across a lightly hairy chest and arms, moving over freckles and moles without stopping once. They didn’t have a particular goal in mind, mostly just drinking in the form in the peace they had managed to carve out of the chaos their lives were. The hands moved, noting the pierced nipples and flicking said piercing on each one lightly, but the action got a grumbled snort, so the owner vowed to not be so rough with that area in the future.

Something caught the explorer’s eyes and he reached up, rubbing along the softer and thinner lines on the big man’s skin. These marks were paler, sunken in like scars could sometimes be, but they wriggled along the body like lightning. He noted there were a few on the end that were pinker, looked fresher. But they weren’t anything to worry about. Marks of stretching, of showing a body’s aging. The explorer had a few, not in the same places of course, but his prize had them scattered all over. With a newfound interest, he took to pursuing and mapping them out. 

On top of his chest, his massive underarms, above, below, along his belly- hidden under the massive and glorious tattoo… there they all were. A squirming body had dislodged the covers and inspected strong legs. Mm only some, he was certain there were more to be seen- on thighs and a soft rump. He wanted to see them, whining petulantly at the boxers, as if they had personally offended him by existing. Off, get them off, he wanted to see-

A massive hand pressing on his head stalled his vibrations he wasn’t even aware he was making and he looked up guiltily into sleepy eyes. “Gehe, sorry mate, got a bit too into it all there.” The thinner man apologized, sliding up to flop half on and half beside the hulking figure.

“With my stretch marks?” The hoarse, sleep-roughened voice asked, before breaking off into a yawn. The willowy man nodded, pillowed against the soft form of the his prize’s left pectoral. Wild eyes were stuck roving over the light marks, trailing them.

“Yeah. They’re neat.” He offered lamely, metal fingers stroking along the firm belly, feeling the ridges as a slight change in pressure and not as the softness he had been enjoying so much.

A snort of disbelief earned an indignant growl and the lanky man settling atop that belly to stare down at him.

“ What, you saying they aren’t? They’re proof you’ve gotten bigger and bigger as you got on, and lived to get ‘em. They’re like scars- but proof you lived, not survived. They’re soft and all over you, proof you ain’t always been big but earned it.” Soft, overbitten lips and a sharp nose smushed against the dense gut.

Hog let out a soft sigh, ignoring the grumbling other pressed into his belly. The little shit had a point, but the stretch marks weren’t something Hog even noticed most of the time. So why was Junkrat making a big deal over them now? The intense focus was actually a little disarming. It was bringing a self-consciousness to Roadhog that he didn’t normally possess.

“Just don’t think much of my body.” He replied, shifting uneasily. A sudden, sharp sensation earned an intake of breath and he looked down incredulously at Junkrat. The kid hat bitten him. The whelp had actually sunk his sharp teeth into Hog.

“That ain’t the roight attitude to have, ya heifer.” The familiar dig so short after a bite earned a snort, some things never really changed. But Jamison then moved and kissed the area he bit, earning furrowed brows and a soft smile. That however, was a bit unexpected. Jamison really could surprise people.

“Your body’s important. Especially yours, as my bodyguard. I chose you fer lots of reasons, but one of them was just how bleedin impressive you were. You looked too big to be real! I knew nothing would come at either of us when you were there being so huge!” These were, in Junkrat’s mind, compliments. But honestly it seemed rather silly when the other was actually explaining it.

“Yer made like you were built to be perfect, Hoggie.” Okay, that last one was pretty good. The bigger man ran a hand through Junkrat’s hair, thankful for him thinking so. Junkrat shimmied down off Hog’s belly and the large enforcer lost sight of him. Well, guess that was the end of that discussion.

Until hands were pawing at his sleep shorts again. A grunt from Hog and his knee rising up to deter the other didn’t really keep him at bay.

“Knock that off.” He growled. He was too tired to mess around right now. Junkrat was undeterred pressing his cool body along the length of Hog’s leg to keep him still.  
“Wanna see all a’ you. C’mon Hog, you don’t gotta do anything!” He wheedled, still pawing at Roadhog, who began to squirm himself to try and oppose the now combatant for his shorts and underwear. 

A loud metal CLANG followed by a scream outside the motel room made both of them still. Junkrat slipped along Hog and down to the floor like a puddle of liquid, reaching and attaching his peg leg. After that he grabbed his harness, the only item of clothing he actually put on. He was nude, wild eyes trained on the door with an intensity.

Hog rolled the other way, reaching for his scrap gun and hook under the bed before lumbering up into an ideal position. He also nabbed his mask, pulling it on and feeling the ease it gave his lungs, to be breathing filtered air. 

They were prepared as they were going to be and from the scuffling and hushed noise outside, their company was not friendly, and large in volume. Perfect. Let them come.


	2. Fighting and Fleeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was spurred on by more time spent with my own Junkrat about Jamison blowing one testicle off and sleeping on preferred sides of the bed. The stuff we get into I s2g. Hope you enjoy it!

The door wasn’t broken so much as viciously battered in by a very irate boot. The individuals that tried to flow in were not anyone terribly important. From their clothing and demeanor, they weren’t even professionals. Some sort of mercenary company hired to bring the pair of them to justice or some gang that thought they were hot enough shit to take them down and revel in their bounties. Idiots, that’s what they were.

The instant the door had enough of a gap, Junkrat had expertly fired a few grenades, the angle perfect for three of the bombs to bounce through and out into the cluster of people behind the group that had flowed in, and, with a ring, they detonated. The panicked yells as the bombs went off signaled these idiots weren’t just idiots- they were foolish idiots. 

If they weren’t ready for traps and explosives coming at them, they clearly hadn’t done a lick of homework on their quarry- their loss and the Junker’s gain. In the very front of the group inside stumbled a dark-skinned man with a shotgun. The first target. Hog fired a longer distance shot at him from across the room, then sent his hook screaming forward. The man was barely hanging on to consciousness, shrapnel littering his torso as Hog wrenched the hook free and slammed it, along with all the force behind a meaty fist, right into the man’s face. He crumpled in front of the large Junker like a sack of potatoes. Bleeding and dead potatoes.

Their numbers reduced from two attacks, the leftover five men still in the room were already looking unsure. Chaos and disorder was Hogdrogen to the smaller Junker- a natural high and he sprang forward, giddily. Hog’s brows furrowed as Junkrat grabbed for a concussive mine from their bag and tossed it forward to get the merc to scramble.

He’d reached in the bag right by their clothes and hadn’t snagged anything to cover himself. “You’re going to get shot or blow your other testicle off. Grab some clothes.” Hog chastised as he fired off another round to help encourage the remaining enemies to divide up, making it easier to pick them off one by one. 

Junkrat just made a rude sounding noise and detonated his concussion mine, a bit too closely to them in this room for Hog’s liking. The blast rocked through the front part of the motel, shaking the walls and sending three of the men sprawling onto the floor. 

“Nah mate. ‘S too late fer that now. I’d get a shot in my arse if I was tugging on my shorts.” The argument was sound, but could be rebutted well.

Another scrap shot. “That’s why you wear underwear to bed.”

The curtains had caught on fire and the mines rocketing out of Junkrat’s launcher weren’t helping. “Don’t got any, you know that.” The banter was flowing like it always did in these situations.

“What?” Irritation was bubbling like blood from the mouth of their assailants. “You have underwear, I have underwear for you in the gear.”

“Ain’t mine.” The launcher was reloaded and ready for another volley at the two enemies still living, only one of them standing. He managed to get a shot off, but it swung wide. Good. 

“Of course it’s yours! It wouldn’t FIT me! Hog snarled, clearly frustrated that the fight was taking so long and that for some reason he had to convince Junkrat of his own possessions.

“Nah, ain’t mine. Took ‘em off a line to get you to quit harassing me. I don’t got a lick of underwear.” Junkrat admitted, and flinched as the hook sailed past him to snatch the last remaining mercenary and yank him forward with a screech. One last final shot and the big man turned to regard the other coldly.

“We’re buying you underwear next chance we get.” Junkrat’s whining noise went ignored as the large man moved to eliminate any still breathing idiots and claim the belongings off the crumpled forms littering the front of the room and the outside. Not much, sadly. Amateurs. Junkrat took that time to tug on his own clothes and grab their bags and such, getting ready to go.

After a showdown like that, they needed to find another place to lay low a few hours away. They loaded up quickly and took off on the bike into the night, smoke and debris still pouring from the room that had now been engulfed in flames. Poor buggers that owned the joint weren’t expecting that.

“I call the left side of the bed when we get there, if this place’s got one!” Junkrat crowed over the roar of the engine and wind. Hog just grunted non-committedly. He normally took the left side, as it was the one closer to the door and he could protect Rat in the case of an ambush they WEREN’T prepared for, but fine. He was still tired, he didn’t care too much.

They drove for a few hours as the night wore on, going from around one am to close to four. It was peaceful, really. Junkrat slept, the engine and roar of the wind always soothing to him on these long trips. Roadhog didn’t mind the quiet at all, but instead just kept the bike moving along the long and inky road. Eventually they settled in another motel’s parking lot. They wiped themselves down with wet wipes Hog kept precisely for this, removing the blood and some of the soot before they checked in. 

The check in system, automated, earned a snarl from Junkrat, but they input their fake ids and put the pictures up to the camera to scan. They honestly preferred real people. Real people they could bribe. But it wasn’t an Omnic, so they took what they could get.

They received their key and moved to their room in silence, the large bag wrapped over Roadhog’s shoulder of their armor and weaponry. Junkrat had the loot bag and scrambled to set it down and dive for what he had claimed “his” side of the bed to be. Roadhog let him, but took a few of the demolition expert’s traps and laid them around carefully. Better to be prepared.

By the time he’d come back in, the shorter Junker was thoroughly naked, only his arm prosthetic still remaining on. He’d had it on earlier because he’d forgotten to take it off, and Hog had fallen asleep before him, as usual. He’d take it off this time. The big man got ready for bed again, removing his mask and clothes in an amicable silence while Rat wormed under the covers.

Then Hog settled in to the opposite side of the bed, Junkrat following suit. The position the enforcer got into meant that his boss was spooning against him, or well- jetpacking. The thinner man had an arm pillowed under his own head and one arm slung across a meaty back, leeching all the warmth from Hog.

They settled in to sleep without much real dialogue, mostly just done with the experience of the night, needing some sleep and a lack of interruption by attempted murder. But Hog personally wasn’t finding sleep easily coming. He looked at their surroundings, puzzled. It wasn’t anything in the room. He didn’t hurt, wasn’t injured in any way- they had made it out unscathed and he hadn’t forgotten anything. A squirm from behind him showed that Junkrat was feeling the same way.

“...This is...weird.” He remarked, finally, to his bedmate.

“Yeah it kinda is. Think you facing me would help? You’re normally facing me.” After a moment to think, Hog figured the other may have a point and rolled over to cage Junkrat in his arms and tug him close. They laid that way for about a minute or two in silence.

“This still ain’t right.” Junkrat conceded. Roadhog could only nod, rather baffled. How were they so uncomfortable in a different bed position? The pair of them could be content lying in a cramped safehouse, or hunched in the back of trucks- but Roadhog always kept himself on Junkrat’s left, protecting him from danger…. And now that he wasn’t there, he didn’t like it.

“Let’s swap.” He offered. Roadhog expected resistance. When Junkrat “claimed” something he usually got possessive. But he relented easily, moving to curl up on Roadhog’s belly as the larger man shifted over. When he was far enough, the blond flopped off onto the bed in a sprawl, but he quickly oriented himself, letting the enforcer’s large arms bring him close against the warm tattooed form.

Roadhog settled in with a long sigh. This was, admittedly, much better. He felt the tension in the pair of them ease. He was rubbing Junkrat’s back, feeling exhaustion settle over him. When of course- Rat burst into laughter.

Fuck.

“What?” Hog asked, not opening his eyes as he was afraid of the answer.

“It’s funny- we got sides of the bed!” 

Hog groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two part thing, because it was originally going to be the one thing when me and my Junkrat discussed getting ambushed and fighting in pjs and nudity. So expect that shit later.


End file.
